Ready Player Two
by amberfragileyahoo.com
Summary: Two years after the conclusion of the events of Ready Player One, other people in the OASIS and the real world, struggle to make ends meet.
1. Chapter 1

READY PLAYER TWO

(A fanfiction based on the characters and events of the novel READY PLAYER ONE by Earnest Cline)

PROLOGUE

My name is Terry Keats and I'm a "gunter". Well, I used to be. I'm not one anymore, although I wish I was. Neither is anyone else. You see, seven years ago, like everybody else in the OASIS, I found a personalized email from Mr. Halliday himself in my message inbox. I watched the postmortem delivered video of the creator of the OASIS explaining the rules and prize for the grand contest and what was entailed. Gates, keys, riddles and challenges. I couldn't believe what I was seeing and hearing. The whole shebang was up for grabs and I was part of it as much as anyone else. I was part of the "grand contest", the search for halliday's egg and the prize of winning control of the OASIS. And like everyone else I scoured the virtual worlds for clues and signs of the hidden keys and gates set aside in the corners of hundreds of worlds in hopes of being the one to solve the puzzles and become the number one name on the scoreboard. Those were exciting times. I still remember it like it was yesterday. In a way, I kinda wish it was seven years ago, because maybe things wouldn't be so boring around here.

People don't talk about the contest much anymore. They really don't. It's been over about two years now, why bother? Anytime its brought up in conversation on boards or chats, people reminisce about the high points of the hunt and where they were when it ended, but other than that, there's not much to discuss. Everybody in the world knows about Parzival beating IOI through the final gate and claiming the egg. Everyone saw the interviews with the winners that took place afterwards and got to hear ad infintium about what they had to go through to come out on top. It was a grand finale and it was everything I wanted it to be.

But now it's over.

In the first interview after winning the contest, Wade Watts announced he'd use his vast wealth to help people through wide sweeping programs, but no one has seen a cent of it. So, until that proverbial carrot shows up, we're still left with just the stick. There was a silver lining in that he said he was going to keep the OASIS free to everyone and not monetize access. So, that's good. The OASIS is still around and any spare time people can manage to get away when they're not trying to find food to sustain their real bodies in the real world is spent there. The OASIS is great and all, but the world is still struggling with an energy crisis. And that's just the start of it. If the waking reality of frequent rolling brownouts, looting, scams, murder, and worldwide poverty weren't enough, people are even more restless now that they don't have the dream of winning Halliday's contest to hold on to. And that's made things more dangerous. Unless you have that damn egg in your hands, everyday life still sucks a metric ton of ass.

I don't have anyone I could call a true friend outside of the OASIS, but there's a few I trust once I connect. Like most, my small clan and I were behind the learning curve on how to figure out Halliday's riddles and we ultimately did what everyone else did; we followed the leaders as they crashed the scoreboard.

This is life after the contest, so get your quarters ready and nimble up those fingers because there's still one "winner take all" side quest left for the rest of us. One last chance to make an impact.

Get Ready Player Two.

CHAPTER ONE

PLANET MINECRAFT:

The five of us were stacked on top of one another like a totem pole as we burrowed deeper and deeper into the blocky planet. The shaft of square dirt and stone was barely wide enough to accommodate our largest member as the makeshift drill finally reached the designated depth. When the digital readout on the drill we were standing on top of read "318", Teega took her hand off the controls and the machine came to a grinding halt.

"That's it!" She exclaimed. "Three hundred and eighteen meters below sea level, on the dot!" Being the group techie and gadget nerd, it wasn't surprising that Teega's appearance made her look like a mad steampunk scientist's assistant. The brass goggles, workers apron, steel toe boots and thick brown hair tied into a ponytail behind her head made her look like a posterchild for an 1890's industrial revolution ad.

"It's about time." Ghast grunted from above. "I'm getting bored holding the rest of these lightweights." Standing seven foot eight, Ghast's chrome golem of an avatar was standing over Teega with one foot on each side as she sat atop her makeshift machine. Above him, his tree trunk sized arms supported the remaining three of the clan. Merry, the perpetually clueless puzzle and code expert, Rex, the team heavy gunner, and myself, the de facto leader. I never asked for the position, but I usually end up being the final decision maker when everyone else wants to argue. Sometimes it feels more like a professional cat wrangler or babysitter than an actual leader. It's not hard being the leader, really. Clan Leadership 101: Don't do anything stupid to get yourself killed and don't do anything that might let others get killed, and don't let anyone do something that might get just them killed. If you die in the Oasis, you're done. Considering everyone in the group but Ghast was under level ten, we didn't start too many fights.

"What now, Doc?" Rex asked me, brandishing a plasma cannon almost as big as himself. They started calling me "Doctor McCoy" because my avatar wears an electric blue shirt, sort of looks like Dr. McCoy from the original television show Star Trek, but eventually it got truncated to just 'Doc.'

"Doc?" He asked again. "Come on, what's the plan? I'm getting claustrophobic in this stupid pothole!"

"Take it easy, we can't rush this." I told him. "You know what's on the other side of that wall, so keep your voice down."

"Are we really that close?" Merry asked in a whisper.

"Less than a meter from the chamber." Teega said, keeping her own voice low.

"This is what we've been working for." I told them. "Has everybody got their escapipe I gave them hot keyed? If something happens down there, and we run into trouble, activate your escapipe like we planned and you'll be teleported back to the public transportation hub where we arrived."

"These things look ancient as hell, Doc, do they even work?" Rex said, turning the 16-bit rendered, cylindrical item over in his hand. "I'm not trying to get myself in a situation where I have to depend on janky hardware and I get hosed."

"Says the guy that still keeps his copper key equipped." Teega added with a smirk.

"Shut up, gear head." He said without looking at her.

"No, you shut up, you teamkilling noobtuber." She hissed back."

"NO YOU-"

"Would you keep it down?!" I said as my avatar kicked Rex's cannon to break up the fight. "We don't know how sensitive these things are to sound."

"If they're sensitive to sound, the noise created by the drill would've already attracted them." Teega said.

"Good point." I told her. "Look, the items are fine. Just because it comes from an old game like Phantasy Star doesn't mean its abilities are diminished. Believe me, I paid way more than I wanted to get my hands on five of them let alone one. If you want to play it safe and stay topside while we go in you're welcome to, but the clan rules you agreed to apply. What's the rule, Merry?"

"No risk, no reward. If you don't put in, you don't get out."

"Exactly." I told him. "If things get hairy, we're going to need your firepower. Besides, I've never seen you back away from a fight."

"I'm not backing out of anything." Rex sounded more excited. "If shit gets hairy, you noobs are going to be screwed without me. I'm ready."

 _Team leading 101, lesson two: Reverse psychology sometimes works._

"Just stick to the plan. Stealth is going to be key. The last thing we want is a fight." Everyone nodded in agreement except for Ghast who grunted his approval. "Teega, open it up."

The steampunk girl raised her fist and tapped it against the dirt three times. With the third strike, a block of the wall of dirt disintegrated and vanished. Where there should have been more pixelated dirt on the other side, only blackness stared back. No one moved a millimeter we all listened and watched the hole for signs of life. If avatars could sweat, the five of us would be soaked. We waited but nothing came. Teega looked up at me and I gave her an affirmative nod. She in turn reached inside the folds of her leather trenchcoat and produced a small wooden wand. Extending her arm towards the hole, he whispered a single word. "Lumos". Instantly, the end of the wand emitted an intense steady glow from the tip. On hands and knees she leaned forward, pushing the wand through to illuminate the area beyond the shaft. Before I could ask her what she saw, she gasped and recoiled back inside.

"What? What is it?"

"The cavern." She whispered. "It's full of them."

"How many?" Rex asked. "Ten? Twenty?"

"No, hundreds." Everyone looked at me.

"That can't be right. Merry? What did the code scanner say the active count of that chamber was?" The smaller avatar dressed like a renaissance fair pick-pocket reached around his back and pulled out the scanner around on its carrying strap. Being a total "trekkie", Merry had modded his code reader to look like a tricorder from the original Star Trek Television show. Its little lights blinked back and forth for show as he brought up the results we'd gained when we first did a recon on the area. Every set of eyes watched him nervously tapping at the screen.

"I'm pretty sure the code scanner said 'OB1010', that's ten right? Yeah, here it is… Um, uh oh."

"What is uh oh?" Ghast grunted.

"Uhhh I think I read it wrong."

"Give it here." I said. "Let me see." Merry handed over the tricorder and I flipped it about to see what made him flinch. After reading the code for myself I flipped the lid closed and tossed it back to him.

"Yeah, he read it wrong. It reads '0B11001000'."

"That's not ten, you space case." Teega rolled her eyes. "That's two hundred!"

"You brainstem deficient, muggle!" Rex said as he began beating his head against the buttstock of his plasma cannon. "How can you be the intel guy and not know the damn difference between ten and two hundred? There's like half a dozen digits difference between the two."

"I'm sorry!" Merry tried to apologize.

"Shut up. Just shut up!" Rex hissed, rising from his spot. Before he could reach Merry I moved between them to keep a melee from breaking out.

"Stop." I said. "Just stop, it's my fault. I should've checked the numbers myself. Blame me." Rex eased up little but then went back to banging his head on the buttstock of his weapon.

"This is getting us nowhere." Ghast interjected.

"The big guy is right, Doc." Teega said. "What's the call, do we stay or abort?"

"I can't squeeze past Ghast to reach the opening and see through. Look again and tell me what you see. If we make the hole bigger, is there enough room on the other side for all of us to climb in without touching one of them?"

"Are you kidding? The cavern in there is the size of an airplane hanger."

"Ok. Enough of this sitting around. Make the hole just big enough for the rest of us to get past Ghast."

"I'm the strongest of the group." The big guy protested. "I should go first."

"Stay where you are. You're the strongest but you're also the biggest and the rest of us have projectile weapons. If you step inside first you're going to be directly in our fields of fire. I'll take point with Rex and Teega on my flanks. She'll keep that magic light on since we don't want to use flares or torches if we can help it. Once we set up a perimeter then Merry will follow and activate the motion sensor. When we're sure everyone's still asleep you make with the quiet entrance."

"What if they wake up?" Merry asked.

"They shouldn't wake up."

"And if they do?"

"Then we fall back and use the escapipes. No heroes on this one unless one of you wants to get pwned, lose their gear and go back to level one."

"I ain't going back to level one." Rex mumbled.

"Good. Follow me."

Teega tapped her knuckles against the wall in wider and wider arcs around the hole and the soil fell away in blocky chunks before vanishing into tinier and tinier pixels. Once it was at least half my height, I squatted and entered. Once through, the cavern opened wide. From the residual light coming from the shaft I could see a little but not much. We'd entered the eastern wall at the ground floor and the walls raised higher and higher out of sight. With a little more widening, Rex managed to squeeze that monster cannon through before following it. The plating and gauntlets on his armor made way more sound than I wanted to be comfortable with. Teega continued widening the hole until Ghast said it was the right size before joining us. With her wand on this side of the wall, the arc of light spread out in every direction illuminating the chamber. And just like Teega said, there were hundreds of still forms waiting in the dark. "Holy shit." Teega said. "Look at them all." As she moved closer from behind, the light revealed a larger, more grim scene. Side by side in a uniform grid formation, frozen grotesque faces stared back at us.

"Fuck me…" Rex whispered as his head whipped about. "I've never seen this many creepers at once. There's at least two hundred of them. Hey Doc, what's to keep us from just pitching a grenade down here and fragging them all at once?"

"Think about it. Each one of them has a gut full of TNT. If one goes off, it'll start the mother of all chain reactions. Two hundred packs of dynamite would create a hole the size of a football stadium and vaporize the artifact we're after." Heavy footsteps approached from the rear.

"What is the artifact?" Ghast asked.

"I don't know. It's signal shows it as being at the other end of the cavern. We'll have to find it. Merry's tricorder has the exact coordinates."

"Oh, that's just great." Rex shrugged the weight of his cannon to wave it about the room." If the coordinates were in binary, he's going be telling us to pack up a damn creeper and haul it back."

"Lay off him, I said it was my fault for not double checking. Besides, he's the only one of us who has the equipment to track the artifact. We got lucky. Without him, we'd be as lost as the rest of the people trying to track the 'rares'".

"I heard some chick cross-modded the crystal ball from the movie Labyrinth with a marauders map and MADE herself an artifact finder."

"Sure she did." Teega rolled her eyes. "If you believe that then I've got some ocean front property on planet Arakkis I can sell you." A single path eight feet wide divided the room down the middle between the figures.

"Stow the chatter. Now tighten up and keep your eyes open for movement. They look dormant but we can't chance any surprises." No one made a sound as we advanced further into the chamber. Teega's wand was the only light to guide us. I could've used one of the flares in my inventory to help us, but again, that would introduce something fire-based to a room full of things whose sole purpose was to explode. The creepers stood in perfect ranks and like a military formation, their expressions too poorly rendered to look alive or dead. Half way there. Checkpoint. If avatars could feel chills, now would be the time for it to happen. Our shadows shifted past the files of our stoic hosts.

"I think we can relax." Merry whispered. "My scanner says the creepers are in "standby" mode. The code of the chamber reads that they stay dormant until someone destroys one above ground and another can spawn in to take its place."

"Fine, you relax." Rex remarked. "I'm not. This whole planet is one big PVP zone which means they're still lethal." Teega looked cautiously about the room.

"What happens if someone does kill one on the surface, what then?"

"There's a chamber at the far end of the cavern." He pointed ahead of the group. "When one is needed, it stirs from its standby mode, moves to the teleportation chamber at the end and gets put into play on the surface." Just as he said that, a single high pitched tone chirped from somewhere out of sight. Ahead of us, a singular red light began to glow over a huge, glass cube. We froze. "Oh shit, Doc," He said. "I'm detecting movement."

"Where?"

"Everywhere." The formation of the party collapsed around Ghast as a singular growl emanated from the end of the formation. A creeper was moving. Rex raised this weapon level with the ground to sight the thing.

"Rex, don't you fucking dare." Teega hissed

"Easy." I told him, reaching out to push the barrel slightly away. "It's moving but it's not moving toward us." The creeper waddled its way forward on its simple limbs and made a perfect ninety degree turn down the aisle towards the glass cube. Further and further it sauntered until it stepped into the waiting chamber. Once it was fully inside, a small flash of blue pixelated light enveloped it and it was gone.

"Well!" Marry said. "That was intense." As soon as he said that, every silent figure in the room that wasn't one of us, shifted one space to the right. In perfect unison, eighty creepers sidestepped to their right to fill the vacant spot. Too startled to know how to react, the team fell over one another in a panic. To our relief, once the creepers took the open spots, they fell silent. The red light went out, and the room became tomblike again.

"Stop pressing against me, Merry." Teega said, shoving him. "Are the rest of you done shitting yourselves or do you need a minute to wipe? You guys are the absolute worst. The only one of you that wasn't ready to trample me to reach the exit is Ghast. Right, big guy?"

"I have to admit," The Golem frowned with its chiseled features. "My butthole _may_ have puckered a little."

Our laughter echoed in the cavern and once stifled, we managed to carry on a little less afraid. Past the last file of creepers we moved. An open area at the end of the formations allowed us to spread out so that we weren't on top of one another. At the end of the ranks, a single pedestal stood next to the far wall. Three feet tall and cylindrical, it waited with a small item seated atop it.

"Is that it?" Teega asked. Merry raised his tricorder and aimed it in the pedestals general direction.

"Six meters? Yeah, that's it."

"What is it?" She asked as we crowded closer.

"Is…is that a baseball?" Rex asked with a tone of disappointment.

"It looks like a baseball." Ghast said, moving his giant head within a breaths distance from the white sphere. "Did we really come all the way down here for a baseball?" Everyone looked to me.

"Maybe it's a magic baseball." I offered. Rex's avatar rolled its eyes.

"Well, magic or not, it better bring a hefty price on the seller's market. I didn't come down here for a non-magic baseball. The more time we waste down here, the less we have to get ahead of the rest of the other hunters." Teega looked surprised.

"Wow, Rex, that's the most intelligent thing you've said all session. He's right, guys. Grab the item and let's bail. This place gives me the creeps."

"Sounds good to me." I said, reaching out to grab it.

"I wouldn't do that!" An unknown voice said from behind. Startled, the whole group wheeled about with weapons drawn to see who or what had spoken.

"Who's there?" Rex barked. At the edge of the illumination shed by Teega's light spell, next to the far wall, the outline of another avatar emerged. It began to move toward us. As it got closer, its generic, easily identifiable features became more visible. Merry identified it first

"A sixer!" He said. "Light that guy up!"

"I'm not armed!" the avatar said with it's hands in the air.

"Bullshit." Rex growled, raising his cannon "No one enters a PVP zone unarmed."

"Well, I am armed, but nothing's equipped."

"What do you want?" I asked. "What are you doing standing in the dark?"

"I'm waiting for others to fail in retrieving the baseball." He said, continuing to walk towards us with his hands raised to the sky. As he drew close enough, his avatar's name became visible. It read 'XS'. "Worst case scenario, you blow yourselves to bits and I'll claim your items when the chamber resets."

"What's going on, Doc?" Teega said. "What's he talking about?"

"I don't know." I aimed by weapon at the avatar's head. "What's your game, Excess? What do you want?"

"I want that orb." He said. "But there's just one problem." With hands still raised he stepped between us to stand before the small pillar. "You see, if you touch this baseball," He lowered his hand to within a few inches. You'll release a hidden trigger in its code and it ignites the TNT in all the creepers at the same time."

"Again, I call bullshit." Rex grumbled.

"Really? You think so?" XS said dryly as he withdrew his hand. "You think I was just standing here in the dark for my health?"

"I think Rex is right." I told him. "I think you just got here."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because Merry scanned this place before we came in. If someone was in here we would've known it."

"Really? You could've detected me with a second rate, low-tier, scanner modded to look like a star trek prop? You're lucky I'm not hostile or you five would've been waxed before the big moose on your team even stepped through that opening." Ghast stiffened and stood at his full height. I'd only seen him bristle like that once before and it was when we tangled with another clan in a PVP zone. Two swings of those big chrome fists and the avatar he was targeting bit the dust. If 'Excess' didn't watch his step he was going to get his Hit Points decimated by the party's bruiser before Rex opened up with his ridiculous energy cannon.

"I'd watch the lip if you want to keep it." Ghast said.

"Look, my towering friend." He moved away to stand before Ghast without a hint of fear. His avatars head had to actually crane back backwards at an awkward angle to look up at Ghast's face. "You, I, and all your friends will lose more than just our lips if you touch that artifact. Now, I've tried more than a dozen methods of acquiring the baseball, but none have proven fruitful. In addition, I've watched from that same dark spot as clans both more numerous and better armed than you have failed to claim it. As soon as they touch the artifact this whole place goes 'kablooey'". Something didn't make sense.

"Wait." I said. "If you were here to see others get blown up how did you survive to know what happened?"

"Yeah, how?" Rex chimed in.

"Because I'm a sixer, noobtube. I've got the whole "Oology" department of IOI backing me up. I'm twice the level of any three in this group and believe me, you don't want me equipping any of the goods we've got a thousand of back at the arsenal. I can teleport at will."

"Again with the bullshit." I said. "The 'Oology' department was decommissioned after Parzival found the egg. You can't have a department studying to find an egg that's already been found."

"We're not looking for Halliday's egg." He said dryly. "We're looking for easter eggs in general."

"Why are you telling us all of this?" Teega asked. "Why not let us just touch the egg and then take our items?"

"Ah, the first intelligent question I've heard from the group so far." He said. "To answer that, you only need look at yourselves and the situation the OASIS has become. There's no more contest to win. Why are any of you here? Because you're like everyone else. You're trying to walk away from this digital game show with a parting gift before they're all gone. My time is very valuable and it would actually be less profitable to wait and raid your goods from the blast crater before it resets. So I don't need your toys and if I did, I would be at a stage of desperation so unredeemable I'd rather just be shot in the face."

"I'd be happy to oblige." Rex grunted before I pushed the barrel of his weapon back.

"So answer her question." I told him. "Why tell us anything? Why not let us fail?"

"Because I want you to get the artifact and share it with me."

"Share? Why would we share with you?" Teega asked.  
"Because, look at me. I'm a sixer. I'm obligated by contract to turn over every item and artifact I find to IOI. If it was me that took possession of the baseball, then IOI would have it and I would have nothing."

"Wait, wait, wait." Merry said as he climbed down from Ghast's shoulder. "You get better food, housing, and a paycheck to work for IOI, why risk losing it working with us if you could be fired for it? Aren't you being monitored right now?"

"Not if the chamber you're inhabiting has a rare artifact or side quest. Remember the egg hunt and how no one could listen in on Parzival or the others when they were challenging a gate or finding a key? This is the same kind of zone. I've already tested it with IOI, they cant see or hear anything I do here. Hell, they can't track me either, and they've tried. That's why I think that baseball is important. Nobody, especially James Halliday builds a special chamber if they're not going to put something inside it. Look, IOI has been making gradual layoffs since the Sorento scandal hit. IOI is doing everything they can to keep their head above water but major cuts have been made. I need to produce but if the whole thing goes down, I need to have a backup plan to live if I can't stay employed. The world is becoming a more dangerous place all the time. If I help you get the baseball, you give me a share of whatever it sells for."

"Why the hell would we trust a sixer?" Rex said. "Why would I give you a single credit for my crew's hard work?"

"Aren't you listening?" XS said. "If I claim the baseball, it goes into my inventory and becomes IOI property. If you get it, we split the prize equally, fifty-fifty."

"Fifty-fifty?" Teega laughed. "I might've gone to school in the real world but even at that ramshackle barn I know there's six people here. You must think we're a special kind of stupid."

"That remains to be seen." He crossed his arms.

"Real cute." She sneered. "If we help you, _IF_ we decide to help you, you're getting a sixth, the same as the rest."

"Yeah." Ghast added. "A sixth."

"Are you really so daft?" XS's voice got more shrill. "If it wasn't for me warning you, one of would've touched the artifact by now and been atomized by the creepers!"

"I think he's bluffing." Rex said. "I think we just barely beat him here and he's trying to fast talk us out of the prize. He might be able to take a few of us but if Ghast grabs the baseball, there's no way he can take the big guy down fast enough to get it before we smoke his sixer ass."

"I think he's bluffing too." Teega said

"Me too." Said Merry

"Me three." Said Ghast "What about you, Doc?" To be honest, I wasn't sure. He had a convincing case but it seemed really far fetched. Better not to chance it. It's been real, Xs but I think Ghast is going to snag the baseball and wwe'll just use our escapipes to get out before the creepers go critical mass."

"You're a fool. Any teleportation item in the OASIS short of Anaorak's personal gear doesn't work in special zones, so I hope you didn't pay a lot of credits to get those escapipes with the plan of just grabbing the artifact and jetting because it won't work."

"It'll work." I said.

"you're really going to do this, huh?"

"Yeah." Rex grinned. "I think we are."

"In that case I wish you a speedy recovery. Enjoy level one, idiots." He said. And with that, he began to glow with an ethereal white light. After a few seconds, he vanished.

"What an asshole." Merry remarked. "C'mon, grab the baseball and let's get out of here."

"Yeah." I said. "Good idea. Everyone got their escapipes equipped?" The party members nodded to the affirmative. "Good. Let's get out of here." All eyes were on me as I held my escapipe in one hand and reached out to grab the baseball. Where I thought there might've been some grand transition or warning or blaring claxon from taking the artifact. There was nothing. It was like Indiana Jones grabbing the golden idol from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Once I had it in my possession, I immediately activated the blue button the end of my teleporter. But nothing happened. I paused but anxiously clicked the button again. Everyone did the same but no one teleported. The looks on the faces of everybody's avatar turned to one of surprise.

"Mine's not working!" Ghast grunted. "It's not activating!"

"None of them are!" said Teega.

At first there was only the clicking of buttons in the dark cavern, but from that grew a slow but steady hissing. Teega raised her wand and raised the amount of luminance in the chamber. The hissing grew louder.

"Doc!" Shouted Merry. "Look!" To our collective horror, we all watched as every creeper in the room turned in place…to face us. The hiss grew louder and louder, increasing in volume and intensity. It sounded like the inside of the angriest hornet's nest in existence.

"They're gonna blow!" Rex said. "We gotta get outta here!"

"Run!" I yelled. "Get back to the shaft! Get out! Get-"

First there was a flash on the far side of the room. It was a bang like a heavy book being dropped to the floor. But then the flash doubled and tripled in size as more explosions joined in. It started slow, but built in speed like a crashing wave as the blast radius claimed the creepers in the aisles next to them to fuel the next. There was no running that was going to get us safely out. We were trapped. XS was right and we didn't listen. I…didn't listen. The blinding wall of whiteness began to envelop us, first Merry, then Ghast, Teega, Rex. In shock I flutily tried to press the escapipe button one last time, in hopes that somehow there was some kind of delay the seller might've neglected to tell me about. There came only a singular muted click before the blast claimed me as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!" I yelled as I ripped the visor from my head. By the time the GAME OVER text had appeared on the visor I was already out of my chair and flinging it across to the room at the opposing wall. I let anger and ego get the better of me. The plastic and metal crunch from my only OASIS rig sounded aloud, creating a pit of regret in my stomach. Still seething, I kicked the small night stand next to me, knocking over the single lamp lighting the room. It toppled against the wall and then to the floor, the vase-like base cracking and splitting into two pieces, darkening the already dimly lit room. I think the lopsided shade sent angles of luminescence up the walls and ceiling to make the visage of a creepers generic grimace just to mock my failure. "God…God fucking dammit."

"NUMBER 4!" A grainy voice blurted through the loudspeaker mounted over the door to the room. "Noise violation after hours! This is your third this month! Further infractions of housing guidelines will result in eviction!" Like a scolded child I pressed my thumb against the button marked "SEND".

"Sorry, Mr. Lindemann." I huffed towards the speaker. "I was online and I forgot where I was."

"You're always loud, number 4. Keep the noise to a low roar or your unit will be let out to one of the many people on the waiting list who _can_ be quiet at three thirty in the morning."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lindemann. It won't happen again." I let off the button waiting for a response but there was only the silence of the room and the smell of something burning. To my right, the ancient ass fluorescent bulb in the lamp was trying to melt its way through the shade. A small trail of smoke rose from the light. I lunged and snatched it up. The smoke trailed away into nothingness as I viewed the damaged what was left. It was trash when I scavenged it but it was really trash now. In the end, I'm sure I could glue or tape it back together but the burn ring on the shade was just another black mark on the day. Wait. Did he say three thirty? The piercing red numbers on the alarm clock across the room confirmed his statement. 3:35. _I have to get up for work in just over two hours. Damn, I was logged in for a lot longer than I thought._ The sun was going down when I slid the visor on. Oh my god, my visor. Both halves of the lamp wobbled and stood well enough to remain vertical on its own. When I picked up the Oasis rig by the elastic headband, what was left sagged in three pieces. Ruined beyond repair. Fatigue found me as I scanned the small rented room I called home; the filthy single person shower, the trashcan overflowing with soy bar wrappers, the unmade bed and the dirty mirror across from me. All of it compounded the underlying themes that my life, all nineteen years of it, were a bigger failure than the foul-up on planet Minecraft.

With no way to log into the OASIS and the threat of the coming workday looming, I dropped the visor, turned off what was left of the lamp and collapsed into the bed. And there, in the shifting swamp of low count sheets, a revelation found me:

 **I REALLY need to get my life together.**

The alarm went off soon enough and with so little rest, I felt half-drunk trying to drag myself out of bed. Luckily, muscle memory took over and without opening my eyes I found the shower. To my surprise there was actually some hot water mixed in with my normal morning ration of cold. With one central hot water tank assigned to this block of thirty units, getting hot water was as rare as finding an Oasis artifact. Whether the other people in the block overslept or showered last night, I didn't care. A small indulgence like this made the events of the last eight hours suck a little less. But like _all_ good things, they come to an end. This time it ended in a gush of ice cold water shooting over my head and down my back. The innate reactions of fight or flight came swift and I flailed in my indecision between turning off the water and trying to get out of its way altogether. I almost fell and broke my neck as the flight reaction took hold. Leaping out onto the ragged mat shielding my feet from the freezing tile I shivered a small moment of relief. When my senses stopped pinging long enough to think straight, my arm shot in long enough to shut off the water. Brrrr. Between the three stacks of clothes, I found the one I best recalled as being "least dirty". Out of it I pulled a pair of jeans and long sleeve shirt with the name of local bailbondsman who was doing a charity drive and advertising event down the road. Bailbondsman are like the local celebrities here in the Over the Rhine area of Cincinnati. With the court systems being in disarray and backed up, they tout their wares and claim to be the friend of those most likely to commit a crime. Like the rest of us. I didn't want to advertise for the scumbag but when you're poor, clothes are clothes. It didn't smell too much so I slipped it on and found the worn old camouflage army jacket I'd managed to plunder from a donation bin in town. There wasn't anything fashionable about it, but beggers can't be choosers. The only part of the ensemble I had any say in was the Harry Potter black and yellow striped Hufflepuff scarf I'd shoplifted from an estate sale three years ago. It was frayed and dingy but dammit it was mine. I wrapped it about my neck and shoulders two, three times and over to let it hang. My stomach was already reminding me I hadn't eaten so I filled my 'lunch bag' with two soy bars, a styrofoam container of "Ramen Friend" noodles, my stainless steel chopsticks, and a can of generic energy drink that was somehow named "Nitro Crack". I shit you not, the slogan was literally "liquid crack you can drink!" I know it's not a well-balanced diet but hey, beggers, right?

The door clicked shut behind me as I stepped out into the concrete hall of the blocks. Floors, walls, and ceiling, you name it, all concrete. "blocks", get it? Yeah, I know, we don't get a lot of poets here in the discount housing districts. Every sound in a concrete corridor echoes way louder than it should so I tried to walk on the outsides of my steps as not to rouse anyone in the other units who might still be sleeping. Making a game of it, I was silent as the grave until the end. Boom. My roll for stealth was a natural 20 as I opened the security door leading outside. Not to be outdone, bad luck reared its head to mock my hard work of being quiet. As I stepped out into the light of the floodlights around the building, a gust of frigid December air yanked the latch out of my grip and the heavy door swung out to slam into the side of the building creating a bang as loud as a car crash. Oh shit. I pulled the door back and shut it before hoofing it down the snow-covered embankment towards the main road. The crunching of the snow drowned out the sounds of my breaths and I'd just managed to reach the corner of the next block before I heard the voice of Mr. lindemann pierce the morning air.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled as I slipped away into the blackness. Even with the heavy crunch of the snow, I could hear the door bang shut. My eyes adjusted to the pitch black and from almost every direction I could see the droves of people emerging from the blocks. Lunch buckets and winter coats rustling in the shadows in uniform flocks. You could say we looked like the walking dead, shuffling and bumping into one another. Say what you want, zombies are resilient. These days, that's something you have to get used to being if you don't want to get steamrolled by the real world. I love zombies. Personally, I've seen every zombie movie ever made. George Romero films are my favorite by far. I wish I could have met him. He seemed cool but he died a decade before I got shoved into this world. It's harder here. Opportunity doesn't grow on trees and every person out here in the biting cold migrating towards the recycling center down this mile-long hill knows the truth. The recycling center isn't great. It smells like sour milk and flat soda pop in the summer and there's hardly any shelter or method to stay warm in the winter. There might not be any work for all of us. It's usually first come, first served, but there's never guarantees. Thanks to the disbanding of all labor unions ten years ago, companies like the center here who need labor can get away with paying next to nothing in wages for the steady supply of day labor. Can't keep up with the pace? Hit the bricks. Can't work because you're sick? Your replacement is already here. A falling piece of metal cut your hand off? Don't bleed on the equipment on your way out. The only thing more demoralizing or humiliating than that is the fact that the Over the Rhine Community Recycling Center's parent company is none other than Innovative Online Industries. That's right, IOI. I'm the wage slave for the "sixers". If the center wasn't the very hand that was helping to feed me I'd have found a way to sabotage the eyesore years ago. Maybe a fire. Oh well, hopeful thinking. For now, I'd have to concentrate on just trying to get through the front gate for a chance to suckle the lathery half dry teat of the enemy if I wanted to stay alive. I was pretty sure I could get in. My chances were a little better since I'd worked the welding shop in the back a few times and not broken anything.

As we moved down the slope, more and more files of people pushed together to form a single shuffling mass on the icy road. I was entertaining the idea of my fellow zombies and I eating the plant's managerial staff when someone bumped me from the right.

"Mornin' Terry." A gruff voice offered." My eyes adjusted just enough to look down and see the smiling, wrinkled face of Lee Fox, another guy from the blocks. Lee was a real hard charger, the last of the real old school. Born sometime in the 1960's, he was a walking time machine and a wealth of knowledge if you knew to ask the right questions. I mean, this guy was something else. He's almost eighty years old and out here in the cold busting his butt harder than some of the younger guys a quarter of his age.

"Morning, Lee." I said. "Cold out, huh?"

"Colder than well digger's asshole. My damn hands are cold."

"I've got some fingerless gloves here in my pocket."

"You don't want them?"

"I accidentally left my good ones in my room. Too late to go back now."

"Well, hand 'em over." I began digging through the oversized field jackets pocket right outer pocket and fished them out for him. "Thanks. I'll give 'em back to you at the end of the shift. If…the yankee scumbags let us in.I need to work today. My pantry is getting bare."

Lee's southern accent gave away where he grew up in coal country, Kentucky. "Raised in the shadow of the black mountain, I was." He once told me. To this day I have no idea where that place is but it sounds goth as shit. He might've been country at heart but he was a gamer down to the bone. We met earlier this year on a break when I overheard him telling a story to other workers about how some games were scarce in the 90's and you had to go to a rental store to hunt through the racks.

"Why didn't you just look up the online descriptions for the games and decide that way before you went to the store?" One of the younger ones gathered around him asked.

"Because the net was still being built." I said from behind. "You had to get reviews from magazines."

"Correct!" He said as he pointed a finger at me with a huge grin and asked; "But can you _name_ one of the magazines?"

"Electronic Gaming Monthly." I replied.

"Bingo!" He laughed.

After that, we talked every day during the walk to the recycling center. It made the trek go by faster. Vintage games, movies, TV shows, comic books, music, all of it. I've always been a nostalgia geek but since Lee had lived in those earlier times, he knew the little things archives and interviews can't always tell you. Lee had been a gamer since the dawn of video games first began. He knew all of it because he lived it. Arcade cabinets, the evolution to consoles, virtual reality's failed birth in the 90's and its long-awaited reincarnation in the 2020's. Arcades, cyber cafés, VR parlors, and ultimately crossing the immersive digital frontier of Halliday's OASIS. On his left bicep he even had a well-drawn but a weathered tattoo of the pixelated demonic face of Sinstar, the scary ass floating techno-alien nemesis from the old school video game of the same name. If you don't know who Sinistar is, check out the archives. His digital scream alone is enough to give you chills.

I felt like such a poser for arriving to the party so late and not getting to see the change for myself. But for all my envy of his experiences, Lee would occasionally tell me "Dying is gonna suck because I'm not going to be around to see what the next big thing is going to be." Sometimes on the way back from the plant, we'd get so wrapped up trying to outdo one another that we'd just sit on the dilapidated cinderblock wall around the "blocks" and talk gaming until it was too dark or too cold to be outside.

The slope of the road was even more slick as it began to level off. A lone downspout hanging off the edge of the building closest to the road must've dumped water on the pavement all night, turning the asphalt into a twenty-foot-wide ice patch. The people in the crowd a few paces ahead of us began toppling over and slipping all over the place. The person in front of me lost his footing and went sprawling, their lunch bucket skittering off out of sight. Without thinking, I instinctually reached up between Lee's shoulder blades and grabbed a fistful of excess material. As soon as I did so, Lee lurched in place, his feet separating in a painful looking splits position. "Horse's ass!" he yelped. Lee dropped about a foot before the grip I had on his jacket pulled taut stopping his fall. With a strong yank I pulled him high enough that he could get traction again. "Good catch, my boy! You're a life saver." He patted me but I didn't let go. "A fall at my age could be a damn death sentence. "Promise me something, Terry. If I fall and break my hip, go ahead and finish me off before the damn paramedics get here."

"I am not killing you."

"I won't hold a grudge, it'll be a mercy killing. Be damned if I'm gonna get laid up with pneumonia and be left to die in a damn hospital bed surrounded by strangers. I ain't kidding, Terry. You do the Christian thing and bash my head in with a rock or throw me off the overpass. No hard feelings."

"Don't talk like that." I told him. "You're still in your prime."

"I'm not as young as I used to be. Promise me you'll never get old, Terry. Getting old is hell."

"I promise."

"That's a good man." He managed a smile as pulled me towards him. "Let's veer right, there's less ice over here."

The rest of the mile went fast enough and before we knew it we were standing in the middle of the crowd outside the gates of the complex. The mass was mostly quiet, people shifting in place. I tried to see through the large iron barred gate blocking the entrance. I hoped the supervisor in charge of the welding shop would spot me and pick me out of the crowd. He liked the fact that I worked hard and didn't show up high like the majority of the other day laborers. If I could spot him and get his attention before they started cattle call there would be a really good chance of getting in. There were no promises of anything. I looked down at Lee who was cupping his hands over his mouth and trying to blow warm air through them. Two breaths later he began expelling a raspy cough that didn't sound healthy at all.

"Are you alright?" I asked. "Anything I can do?"

"Unless you can get the sun to rise faster, then no."

A loud clang at the gate got my attention. The metal on metal clickity clack of the logging chain being pulled link by link through made everyone cringe. The gate was thrown wide and the foreman appeared in the threshold, clipboard in hand. A portly man scratching a trimmed beard stood atop a grimy plastic bucket to see over the crowd. I'd seen him before, the plant manager, the head honcho. With a nod, a supervisor handed him the microphone and tone of the P.A. sounded overhead.

"Good morning!" he said aloud. A wave of feedback regressed through the system and shot through the crowd, causing everyone to cover their ears. "Turn it back a bit." He said before the noise stopped. "Ah, there we go. Can everyone hear me? Good. Ok, Again, good morning. Before we begin work call this morning, it's my unfortunate duty should inform all of you that one of our trucks carrying precious materials to be processed here at the plan was hijacked by highway men last night. One of our own, Dale King, was pulled from his truck and killed. A bunch of scumbags thought they had the right to take something that didn't belong to them and they killed a good man just for being in their way. From what I hear they yanked him out of the cab and shot him on the spot for doing his job. Can you believe that? And for what? Four tons of scrap computer chips. I don't understand it." Lee nudged me to get my attention and when I leaned closer he whispered in my ear.

"Four tons? Four tons of chips with gold pins in them would be worth a fortune. That's why they robbed it. There's enough precious metals like platinum, palladium, and rhodium in the mountain of catalytic converters behind the traffic office alone for one person to live like a fat cat if you knew how to get it out. Oh shit, Terry he's looking at us." I looked up to find the Foreman staring me down.

"Son, is the reason you're talking more important than the death of one of your fellow coworkers?"

"No, sir!" I shouted back with a straight face. "Mr. King once helped me get through some hard times and I want to see those 'scumbags' brought to justice for what they did to a good man!"

"You're right!" the foreman agreed. "Justice does need to be done. What's your name?"

"Terry Keets, Sir! My friend Mr. Fox here and I work in the welding room. We're both deeply troubled that such an atrocity could happen to such a dedicated employee!" Lee looked up at me with bugged eyes.

"You're off your damn nut. We didn't know that guy." He whispered.

"Shut up, I'm trying to get us in." I said through my teeth while flashing a wide grin. Lee had a point. I'd only seen the elderly man in passing half a dozen times.

"We all should be troubled, Mr. Keets. I've already received a memorandum from our parent company expressing their sympathy and condolences and they've asked that an independent investigation be conducted so that the perpetrators can be arrested." The man's expression sagged a bit. "Oh well, that's enough of that for now. But the loss of Mr. King's materials truck will affect today's schedule and we'll need less workers on the floor. Having said that, I'm going to hand things over to the section heads and assignments will be doled out. Thank you."

As he stepped down, the crowd murmured and made a subtle but hard shift forwards the gate. A supervisor took his place on the bucket and began calling out for volunteers. It really didn't matter what job was being offered, we all yelled "here!" and gesticulated to get noticed. The people in the back kept pressing forward, crushing everyone together like the fans in front of a stage at a rock concert. Things got cramped quick and someone jabbed an elbow in my right kidney. To my left, Lee, who was shorter than most, start to look worried at being pressed upon from every side. Even while standing on his tippy toes, his hand was barely visual amongst the rest. More assignments came and went; the scrap area, the shipping dock, the sorting area, and lastly the baling machine room. I tried my best to get chosen but couldn't get noticed. I didn't see the welding room supervisor anywhere.

"That's it!" The supervisor waved. "That's all we need for today!" Shouts of disappointment pleading filled the air but the pushing and shoving eased. Most of the people began to disperse.

"Dammit." Lee cursed. "I wanted to get in."

"Hold up." I told him. "Let me see check on something."

"What are you gonna do?" I shoved my way forward to the gate as one of the managers was starting to thread the chain back through the bars of the gate.

"Excuse me, Sir? Excuse me!" I waved at the guy with the clipboard.

"There's no more positions open for today." He said without looking back.

"I know that, but you didn't mention the welding shop."

"I didn't?" He stopped.

"No. You named all the others but my friend Lee and I work in the welding shop. If you could find the welding 'super' he can tell you."

"Walter isn't here today, he's out sick. Besides, with the slower schedule today, we couldn't use more than one of you. You wanna work?" I looked back at Lee who stood rigid in the snow. We both needed the money, but with him needing groceries and me knowing my supply of soy bars would last a little longer, I did what needed to be done.

"Hold on a second," I turned away to rush over to where Lee was standing.

"You'll want to take this guy today!" I yelled. Grabbing Lee by arm of his coat, I almost pulled him off his feet. "Here, Lee knows what to do and won't cause you any problems.

"Terry, what are you.." Lee stammered. " I don't know how to operate the-"

"It's okay. Pretend you're busy, the supervisor isn't here, just look busy." I assured him in a whisper. "We'll both get work tomorrow. Oh, and don't forget your lunch." Before he could react, I shoved my lunch bag in his arms and pushed him through the gate. "Don't forget to sweep the floor when you're done so the supervisor is happy!" The managers looked a little confused at me giving up my spot but shook their heads and started closing gate once more. Lee kept walking and turned once to wave and shoot me a smile. I hated to pass on a day's wages but sometimes others need things more. My stomach instinctively grumbled its protest. "Yeah, quiet you."

Just then, a piercing winter gust kicked up like a whirlwind and surrounded me, making sure to jam its icy fingers up my pant legs and up the front of my field jacket. As the wind twisted upwards, my knit hat peeled itself fee and went flying across the gravel parking lot. I gave chase. The hat raced ahead of me, tumbling and flitting away. I almost had it twice, but every time I tried to grab it, it easily leaped out of reach. Around and under the rows of cars it weaved. Finally the wind died down and it came to rest next to an unfrozen puddle between two semi- truck cabs. I rushed to collect it before it ended up in the water. As I lunged, a white flash just out of the corner of my sight moved directly at me and slammed me square between the eyes.

If ever there's a hard luck contest anywhere in the world I'd love to see someone try and pull the golden trophy from my hands. Thus began the great "Grand Parking Lot Ballet of Fail". The blow to the face stunned me enough to stagger for balance to my left. Once I collided with the side of the semi-truck, I panicked and tried to latch onto something, anything stationary. My fingertips slipped across the slick, dew-covered, painted panels of the sleeper compartment as I tripped over my own feet and toppled chest first into the very puddle I'd hoped to save the cap from. I scrambled to get out. In the process of flailing I managed to soak both of my upper legs and entire left arm. I made it vertical in less than three seconds but the freezing sensation of the water was already finding spreading across goosepimpled flesh. A creeping cold a hundred times worse than that of the whirlwind shot through my body and I began to convulse from the shock of the temperature shift.

"Hey, buddy!" Someone called to me. "You alright?" Spastic sensations sunk their nails deep and I couldn't make words. I just shivered. All I could think about was the long mile back to the blocks and how much it was going to suck ass. If that wasn't enough, another sensation different than the cold found my hands. I saw that in my attempt to catch myself, my palms took the brunt of the impact on the gravel. Dozens of miniscule cuts began to materialize as the blood found its way to the surface. Each began to weep a little making them appear to grow in size.

 _If bullshit were music, my life would be a big brass band._

"Hey, kid." The voice said again. "You took a mean fall there. You okay? I didn't see you there and I guess I swung the door open without looking."

"My hands are bleeding."

"Oh shit, did I do that? Come here, I've got a first aid kit up in the cab if you want. We can put some suave on it." The wind picked up and my cap threatened to slip away again before I pinned it with my boot. It wasn't the truckers fault. It was an accident. I knew it wasn't on purpose, but still, a rage began to push its way to the surface. Even while freezing there in the cold ass parking lot I felt my cheeks flush and get hot. Between the botched raid, the yelling landlord, the lack of work and falling in the puddle I felt like screaming until my voice blew out. Anger and potential hypothermia made me quake. The tiniest of voices in the back of my head told me to cuss the trucker up one side and down the other but again I knew it wasn't on purpose.

"Are you okay?" The trucker said again.

"I'm… just…cold." I managed to say through gritted teeth as I looked at my palms again. As I spoke, a man with a reflective vest and a digital clipboard rounded the front of the truck and approached the two of us. It was the plant safety supervisor

"What's happened here?" The thin man said.

"I was just stepping out of my cab here…" The trucker offered before the supervisor cut him off.

"Did you hit another one? Bill, that's the third person you've struck by swinging a door open without looking. Sir?" he looked at me. "Are you hurt? Do you require medical attention?"

"I'm cold-d." I mumbled as my teeth began to chatter. "I need-d-d t-t-to get hom-m-m-me."

"Are your hands bleeding?" Before I could reply he closed the distance between Bill and I and grabbed one of my wrists to see the palm. He looked at the other before making a grimace "Great. Yeah, this is an accident on company property and needs to be documented. What's your name?"

"Terry Keats."

"Do you work here at the plant?"

"Yeah, most days."

"Okay, come with me. We have a medical station inside."

"Look, I need to get home, I'm wet and freezing."

"That's alright, we have an onsite facility here in the plant to clean and dry them. There's a shower with hot water in there too. We'll get you something dry and then we can fill out the incident paperwork. Come on. And as for you, Bill…" He looked back over his shoulder. "I'll write this up as a 'no fault' but you and I are going to talk later today." Bill hung his head before opening the door to his cab and vanishing inside. Near delirious from exposure, I did my best to follow the reflective vest back to the main gate before security waved us inside. The safety guy looped a lanyard with a card marked VISITOR over my head and I followed him through a series of locked doors he needed a keycard to pass through. Once entirely out of the elements I began to feel a little better. The fluorescent bulbs overhead created a dull but piercing wash over everything and hurt the eyes. The soles of my boots squeaked behind the man as we travelled the length of a hallway that seemed longer than the plant itself. The whole setting felt like a corridor from Metal Gear. When we reached the end, he swiped his keycard for access to another brightly lit section. On the left were workstations and a server room far in the corner. To the right was a partitioned first aid station with amenities like a small apartment; washer, dryer, small bed, eye wash station. I might've considered the whole thing pleasant if not for the six-foot "IOI Industries" sign staring back at me. The temperature of the room was warm and welcoming even if the sign wasn't. He stepped away long enough for me to glance at the closest workstation and see a framed picture of the guy with what looked like his family. Next to that, a desktop sign marked 'Kayden Baker' gave me his name. When Kayden returned from the far side of the room he handed me a folded, grey boiler room suit with a zipper stretching from crotch to neck. A patch with the stitched letters 'IOI maintenance' adorned the left chest.

"Take this. There's a shower around the corner." He pointed towards the apartment. "Also, there's a rack of towels next to the door. Get yourself cleaned up and I'll start the documentation."

"Thanks-s-s." I managed a half smile before shuffling away.

Inside the secluded room, I dumped the field jacket into the floor and began the grueling process of peeling the wet jeans from my legs. They had become so difficult that at the end I was sitting on the floor and kicking the material away like a child. At last, the denim fell with a "shlorp" into a shapeless pile. With the rest stripped off I flipped the handle to activate the water. Whether it was because of lack of familiarity or my clammy skin begging for any source of heat, the hot water felt amazing.

From a shelf molded into the shower wall a bottle of multipurpose body wash/shampoo two years past its expiration date beckoned to be used. The cap popped open and the aroma of fake strawberry chemicals within wasn't entirely repulsive. Bonus. I wanted to mentally let go and enjoy the sensations but the nagging thoughts of the botched raid seeped in from around the edges of my brain and forced their way to the forefront. What was I going to do now? I'm fucking level one again. The next time I log into the OASIS my avatar won't have any weapons, armor, upgrades or anything. It's all gone. Not only mine but everyone else's as well. What were the others going to do? None of us had the resources or credits to get our avatars back up to speed. Even if we WERE able to get our equipment back, we'd have to grind in PvP zones for close to a year straight non-stop to get the XP needed to level back up to where we'd been. Sure, I'd still have my credits but it wouldn't be enough to replace my gear by a long shot. Jesus, everyone is going to be furious. I know Teega and the others will justifiably be inconsolable but Rex is going to be a complete basketcase the next time we talk. Then it dawned on me. I didn't have a rig to log into the OASIS with. It wasn't fancy by any means but at least it worked. Why was I so stupid?

I tried to linger in the small but high-powered stream as long as I could, letting the near scalding spray massage my crown and shoulders. Each tendril of the coursing water felt incredible, but in the end, I knew I'd have to get out.

The handle gave a high-pitched squeak as it rotated and I stepped from the stall. A matted towel nearby was coarse to the touch as it dried me off. I slipped both feet into the boiler room suit and zipped it up to the neck. Most of the material felt a bit like the towel, scratchy but better than drenched clothes. Muddy, oily water swirled the drain as I wrung the pants and shirt, and when the material wouldn't give up another drop I bundled it within the half-wet jacket. I returned to Kayden's desk and he handed me a tablet with what looked like a typed report already on it.

"Read over what I typed up and see if there's anything that needs to be changed. If it's correct, sign at the bottom. In the meantime, give me those dirty clothes." I handed them over and he stepped into the other room as I began reading a sterile but accurate account of what had happened outside. He pitched the whole mess of clothes in the washer and turned it on. As he began walking back the door we'd entered through opened. I recognized the plump, bearded face of the plant manager immediately.

"This the guy, Mr. Baker?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Keats took a blow to the head while walking through the parking lot." The man looked me over.

"I remember you from this morning." He said. "So you know, well, _knew,_ Dale King."

"Oh Yes, Sir!" I lied "He was a good man, he didn't deserve to have that happen to him."

"Isn't that the damn truth. Police report says the highway men caught him outside his cab and blew his brains out on the side of the road and left him there for the animals to start chewing on." Having said that, he paused to look me over again.

"Do you work here?"

"Yes, Sir. In the welding shop."

"Is that right? If you work in the welding shop how come you were in the parking lot after work call?"

"I'm a regular worker, but due to Mr. King's death, there wasn't any work for my section."

"I see." He nodded, looking convinced.

"Well, I can't do anything about that today but maybe I can find something else for you to do to make a day's wages. "I've got a special package in my office I'd like you to take care of." For a second I had a terrible vision of what those words could mean. It could've been my imagination getting the better of me but people are animals these days. Whatever he had in mind behind the closed door of his office could be anything from delivering an inter-office memo to an adult sized black vinyl Little Bo Peep costume with a ball gag. The day was turning to be such a total "drive-by" that neither would've surprise me.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

The office turned out to be the cleanest room I'd seen in years; brushed aluminum door, immaculately polished tile floors reflected the luminescence of the recessed "daylight" bulbs that's gave the soft glow of a summer day despite it being the month of December. I said a small prayer of thanks that a crotchless leather clown suit wasn't hanging in the corner.

"Have a seat." He said, gesturing to a pair of wooden chairs with worn cushions in front of his desk. He plopped himself down behind it, his own chair's springs squeaking it's protest to his girth settling upon them.

I took a seat in the less rickety looking seat of the two he offered, grateful there was adequate heating here as well. Once situated, he interlocked his fingers and leaned forward so that his forearms and elbows were resting in the desk.

"I'll get to the point, Mr Keats." His tone became sterner. "The death of Mr. King is a loss to this company but things must go on. My secretary has spent all this morning attempting to contact Mr King's wife who's listed as his next of kin. So far, we've been unsuccessful in reaching her so we can settle certain financial matters. That's where you come in. Mr. Kong's residence is listed as being ten miles from here near the "over the Rhine" area of town. Anyway..."

His voice trailed off as my brain began to show me pictures of the rough part of town most people don't want to go into. That's gang territory, all of it. One big concentrated festering shithole of humanity that doubled as a warzone three hundred days of the year. Even cops aren't crazy enough to go there. Unless you're part of whatever heavily armed criminal element that was controlling that section of town that day, you avoided it like the plague it really is. But if you're into drugs, rape, and assault rifles, it's freaking candyland. Thanks, but no thanks.

"Do you find those terms agreeable, Mr. Keats?" He said.

 _Oh shit. I zoned out while he was talking. What was he asking me?_

"Excuse me?"

"I asked if you'd consider delivering this package to Mr. King's residence. As a non-company courier, I can pay you with a $300 credit voucher."

"How much, again?" As soon as he said the amount, the idea of getting shot and killed was diminished by the idea of having enough money for food or a new headset. Preferably the latter.

"$300. The voucher can be converted to OASIS credits if you-"

"I'll do it. Where do I sign?"

"I'll have the document created immediately. Now then, You won't want to go out in this weather wearing that boiler suit so as soon as your other clothes are dry. They should be ready soon so when you're ready come back up and I'll give you what you need."

"Thank you, Sir. I feel terrible about Mr. King's death." I lied as I rose and started for the door.

"As do I."

As soon as the door shut behind me I felt sorry already for heading towards that part of town. My poverty and my common sense were fighting for which one of them spoke for me and poverty won this round. By the time I got there, the clothes were almost ready. It felt good to have the heavy weight of the field jacket on my shoulders again. Ten minutes after that, I was signing the courier form with the plant manager looking me over.

"Now I have to reiterate you need to get a digital signature when you drop this envelope off. If you come back without the thumbprint signature, I can't sign off on the voucher and you won't be paid." He handed me a chunky, antiquated, digital tablet. "Get the thumbprint of his spouse or that it's been received and I'll see to it that you're properly compensated. Are we clear?"

"Transparent." I replied with a phony smile as I began to mull over growing nagging in my head of what Id have to actually do to earn the payment. Nobody in their right mind wants to go near that area, but then again, most people aren't being paid $300 today to play "mailman" for a little while.

I took the tablet, the Manilla envelope and stuffed them both into a canvas one strap courier bag just big enough to hold them both. I used my own my thumb to sign the courier agreement and before I knew it I was out in the shitty weather with the main gate locking behind me. Another blustery gust picked up and my hat threatened to make a run for it again so pulled the hood of my jacket up to keep it in place. I'd already checked the address of where Mr King lived. Ten miles to the destination. What I wouldn't have given for the option to fast travel the distance.. Ten miles, and then ten miles back. At least I had comfortable boots.

Nine and a half miles in, my feet felt pinched and blistered. I tried walking on the outsides of the soles for awhile but after climbing the steep streets of the hills my calf muscles felt like they were going to explode. I found the right street, but no sooner had I turned onto it did I really start to see the warning signs and reasons not to linger too long; burned out cars and buildings, gang symbols spray painted on every conceivable surface. Uncut lawns and condemned structures lined both sides of the avenue. The destination was about 500 yards down the road but when I got Further down the hill I caught sight of a pair of teens perched atop the wreckage of an overturned automobile. Upon seeing them I stopped. While loitering adolescents is a common sight, something about the way they be were moving didn't seem right. They hadn't seen me yet. Moving slowly I backed away at a diagonal angle and hid my profile behind a dilapidated telephone pole. For three minutes I stood there looking like an idiot until my suspicions were confirmed. One of the boys stood up, the profile of a kalashnikov automatic rifle with a 100 round drum on the bottom of it. Yeah, Thanks but no thanks. I'm not going to be target practice for some Rambo wannabe tweeker who might have a grudge against someone who looks like me. I'm no idiot, I remember what happened to C3PO in Star Wars episode XI when he asked for help. Nope, not today. I moved laterally to my left and peered behind the closest house. There were no fences separating the back yards, just tall grass and rusting tool sheds all the way to the apartment complex. Through the dew covered grass I moved, trying to find bare spots or shorter grass to keep the bottoms of my pants from getting soaked. I wondered how many green rupee gems were lying in wait. All I need do is swing a sword in a circular motion to cut the grass while yelling "hi-ya!" to make them appear. If only. Five, six houses I passed, stopping at the far edge of each one to peer out for the wild boys. Upon reaching the end of the seventh house I snuck a peek to find the two still talking but facing my direction. If I crossed now they'd see me. I waited a few minutes to see if they'd turn or move on but they stood their ground like they were manning a guard post. How did the old trucker get in and out everyday? Did he have to play road warrior just to drive to work? I waited ten minutes longer hoping for them to have to leave or take a piss so that they weren't staring my way, but no luck there. Although Sometimes you make your own luck. I'd have to make my own opening if I was going to get where I needed to go. All I needed was a distraction. I peeked out just a little to get a feel for the terrain. On the far side of the road behind wild boys was another abandoned car and next to my foot was an oblong piece of masonry the size of a baseball. I can make this work. I'll pitch the rock in a high arc, and as soon as the two dipshits turned to see what was making the noise behind them I'd be able to slip through. Stepping back, I gauged the approximate distance to the car on the far side. The rock felt heavier than it looked but I figured I'd just heave it a little harder. I felt like that "ash" kid from Pokemon throwing a Pokeball as I took one more stutter step backwards and let the projectile fly high into the air. _I choose you, Rockachu!_ As soon as I let go I rushed to the side to catch the reaction. It took a second longer than I anticipated but the chunk came down. Only it didn't hit the car on the far side. The hurled piece of concrete sailed down and hit the kid with the AK47…

right in the eye.

The kids head flew backwards at a painful angle and he began shrieking and holding his face as blood appeared on his hands and clothes. The ruckus he made sounded like an animal being gutted as he shrieked and flailed. The other not knowing what happened or thinking that he'd been shot, quickly gathered him up and helped the now screaming and bleeding kid away from the car. The two hobbled down the street together as fast as they could manage, the uninjured one looking back over his shoulder for the person who'd done it. The one kid screamed bloody murder as he hobbled off balance until the echoes of his wails were gone in the distance.

"Well that shit will never happen again." I actually said aloud.

How often can you roll a 20 sided die, have it land on a 1 but get a perfect 20 result? Since the situation had resolved itself and I was free to move, I began crossing the space between the houses. I stole one last glance back to where I'd made my amazing throw to see something unexpected. The AK. In the wild boys' hasty retreat, they'd left the bulky assault rifle with the drum lying on the hood of the car. I wanted to get moving but in a situation like this it seemed wasteful to win a round of combat and not get some kind of reward. From the edge of the house I looked up and down the street to find no one was watching. As fast as I could manage I slipped down the yard, approached the car, snatched up the weapon and retreated to the back to cover. The weapon looked well used. I didn't know much about weapons outside of the OASIS. How strange that I could pick up a seven foot plasma weapon or rocket launcher online and be fine with operating it but know very little about an actual weapon of death. I knew enough to keep my fingers away from the trigger as I unclipped the drum and pulled the bolt back. A round ejected straight up and hit me in the face before falling into the grass. I fished it out. And put it back in the drum which by the weight of it must've been full. I needed to move on but there was no way for me to conceal such a large object without being noticed. If the other gang members returned they'd know it was missing and be looking for it. I still needed to get to the complex ahead and somebody might call security or worse, have a bigger gun. A dilapidated wooden porch behind the house next to me had a gap between the floorboard and the ground and looked like a great place to store it and come back for it later. A torn tarp was nearby so reassembled the gun and wrapped it up in that before stuffing it behind a post and out of sight. Having done that, I continued on but didn't let my guard down. The occasional peek from behind the houses made me feel like I was playing hide and seek. I had no idea if there were more guard posts or if the two that had run away would return with reinforcements. The smart thing to do would be to not linger and find out. As I traveled behind the remaining houses I thought of the others from my crew and wondered what they were up to after we all got fragged on planet Minecraft. If I hadn't acted like an immature brat and destroyed my rig maybe I'd know the answer. Rex and Teega had the most equipment and weapons to lose out of all of us. Teega could grind as good as anyone but I know Rex worked his ass off for the better part of a year for the credits to get that cannon of his. He was going to be an absolute headcase when we eventually spoke again; if we spoke again. Merry and Ghast would eventually come around but until he leveled up again, Ghast's power wouldn't be anything near what it was before.

The last house came and went and I found myself at the gate of the apartment complex. A man on a glassed-in security booth at the entrance eyed me suspiciously as I approached.

"What do you want?" He said without looking up. I shrugged off my pack and opened it to show him the envelope and tablet inside.

"I'm here on IOI business to get a thumbprint signature from Dale King's wife for a delivery. It says here she's in suite 245."

"That's the King suite alright, but you'll have to wait until gets home. Mrs. King is bedridden."

"That's why I'm here. Mr. King was killed last night during a robbery. I need to get Mrs. King to sign for these documents. It's probably his last paycheck." His eyes bugged at the news.

"Oh shit, really? That's awful. Um, tell ya what, I can't leave my post but I'll buzz you in if you'll sign the guest log."

 _Bingo._

"Sure man."

I signed the log sheet and the guy pressed a button behind his head. The adjacent door gave off an unusually loud buzzing sound that grated my ears but released the magnetic lock.

"Second floor." He pointed toward the far end of the building. "Last suite in the right."

"Thanks."

Inside, the building smelt freshly cleaned but stale as a whole, almost like it was water damaged but someone had repainted it and doused it with an air freshener.

I climbed up two flights of stairs and passed through a fire exit door. Worn but vacuumed carpet spanned the length a long hallway illuminated by small recessed lights overhead.. At the end I found 245.

Finally.

I banged against the door with my fist and to my surprise it swung inward a few inches. "Hello?" I said into the darkness, Waiting for a response. No one answered. "Mrs. King? I'm a courier for the company your husband works for. Are you in here, Mrs. King?" Again nothing. Goddamnit. The toe of my boot pushed the door open a little further and inside I found a staggering amount of junk and trash sitting on the floor and every horizontal surface in the place. Bills, bags, wrappers, boxes, garbage, you name it. Mr and Mrs King were hoarders. I didn't want to go in, but I needs a signature and couldn't just spend the rest of my life in this hallway. It was messy, but nothing could've prepared me for the smell once I was past the threshold. It was like being smacked in the nose with a blanket made of rancid, wet, trash. I gagged and might've puked if for not having eaten a full meal this morning. The only thing I could do was hold my breath and pick the top of my jacket front over my nose. The stench was terrible, and the sweltering heat of the room's temperature wasn't helping. Ten steps in and I was already sweating. "Mrs. King?" I said again a little louder to compensate for my muffled voice. No answer. Every few feet I had to side step land mines of dog shit on the carpet but didn't miss them all. The combination of the smell, heat, and my disgust began to make me feel light headed.

I reached the back of the condo with one last door closed. "Mrs. King?" I said one last time, opening it. I half expected to scare the shit out of some little old white-haired lady in her pink house coat sitting in a chair.

That's not what I found. A rotting stench far worse than the dog shit permeating the rest of the residence hit me like a war hammer as the door swung wide and I found myself in the company the rotting corpse of an 800 lbs woman lying sprawled on her industrial sized bariatric bed. Jesus god the smell was so invasive that I couldn't keep the aroma of carrion from turning my stomach. I wretched and managed to pull my face out of my jacket before spraying vomit across the floor. Unable to cope, I retreated from the room. After fumbling with lock on the window, the sash flew up and clean air filled the apartment. Well, clean if you like air that's downwind from a battery plant and makes your mouth taste like you've been sucking on a USB adapter. She's dead. She's fucking dead. I came all this way and she's too dead to get a fingerprint. I'm not going to get paid. I came all this way, walked blisters on my feet, put some kids eye out and now to top it all off I'm not going to get paid. My mind reeled from not only the situation but the smell that was determined to reach my nose even while it was leaned out the window.

Okay. Think, stupid, think. You came to get a thumb print. Her thumb still has a print on it so all you have to do is get back in there and press her thumb against the pad and you're done. That means you have to go back in there, grab that woman's lifeless, already decomposing hand and hold it against the tablet and you'll have what you need. I tried breathing through my mouth to get the scent of death to subside, but it didn't help enough. I kept gagging until I was able to find a kitchen dishtowel, dampen it, and press it over my mouth and nose. It worked, and it kept me from being nauseated long enough to take in the rest of my surroundings. On the whole, it seemed innocent enough. There were pictures on every wall of Mr and Mrs King's smiling faces. As I moved frame to the next I noticed a growing trend; no kids. There wasn't a picture of a child or niece or nephew anywhere. I looked through every single one hanging on the walls and couldn't find any other family members either. Mr and Mrs King were both dead and no family was going to be coming to claim their belongings. Anyone who's lived in the "blocks" knows what happens next. The landlord or tax collector will come looking for payment when neither of them pays the bills. They'll enter and remove what's left of Mrs King if she hasn't already been removed and begin boxing up all their belongings for an estate sale. After the items are cherry picked by the landlord or movers, every piece of furniture and appliance will be auctioned off for pennies on the dollar of the actual worth.

But first things first. I gotta get that thumb print if I'm going to get the $300. Going back to the entrance I shut the front door and locked it. After that I went through the kitchen drawers, finding more clutter. Two, three, four more drawers I tore through. A dozen fistfuls of junk after that I found the rubber gloves I was searching for. They weren't surgical gloves of course but the big thick kind used for washing dishes. Beggars can't be choosers, right? The backpack slipped away, and I prompted the tablet to show the screen asking for Mrs King's verification. I REALLY didn't want to go back in that room but there wasn't much debate to be had. I took a moment to pull some deep breaths before plunging myself back into the necrotic fog. With one final held breath I kicked the door wide, approached the bed and reached for her wrist. The darkness of the room saved me from seeing all the details of her face but a single glimpse of the slack jawed maw became all the motivation I needed to work as fast as possible. With a gloved hand I grasped her wrist which felt like a wet sponge. To add to the grossness of it all, her wrist made an accompanying "squish" sound when I lifted it. With the other hand I set the tablet down and grabbed her thumb and positioned it on the screen. Nothing happened. Oh, god, no. I tried again. Nothing. Oh, you gotta be kidding me. C'mon! I couldn't help but look up at her face and saw a dark red foam gathering in her mouth as her eyes stared off into the ceiling. Desperate, I pulled the hand up, wiped the thumb on the cover and tried again. The screen blinked and the words on the screen changed from "press thumb here" to "Invalid thumbprint. Not acceptable user" I tried again, resetting the screen and manipulating the digit into place. Once more, the device rejected the print. My lungs felt like they were going to burst. I dropped the wrist, grabbed the tablet and exited the room before having to take another whif of that room.

Back at the window my mind reeled at fathoming how on Earth I was going to make this work. What if I couldn't get the reader to work? What if I came all this way for nothing?

 _Screw that. I'm getting that thumb print if I have to cut it off._

Once more I took a deep breath and charged in. I fiddled and fidgeted with the digit but by holding the finger a certain way, the screen flickered and gave the message:

"print signature accepted! Thank you! Mrs. king!"

I would've breathed a sigh of relief, but that might've involved potentially breathing in more fumes. As soon as the tablet's chime hit my ears I dropped her hands, snatched the device and bolted for the door.

Back in the living room, I grabbed the manilla folder from the backpack and pitched on the closest chair while the tablet went back inside. That does it. _I'm sooo getting paid_. I don't know if it was worth $300 to have to play puppeteer with a cadaver but it beats cutting metal for eight hours. I gazed around the room. Despite its nastiness, the place didn't seem that bad. Better than any home I'd ever lived in. I'd begun to daydream about what it would be like to live here instead when the sharp stench of dogshit found my nostrils again. Good lord, it reeked. I wanted to leave and I wasn't far from the front door.. It struck me funny that I hadn't seen a dog or pet of any other kind since I'd been here. The carpet nuggets were small enough that it had to be small but where was it? I could easily leave and shut the door behind me but there was obviously an animal here and the owners weren't going to feed it anytime soon. If I left without doing something it could starve to death in this filth box.

I searched every corner and behind every piece of furniture outside of the bedroom but didn't find anything. I REALLY didn't want to go back in there and it would be really easy to say "I tried" before I bounced out of "casa de muerte" but animals don't know any better and I'd hate to think one died because of my negligence.

 _Goddamn it._

I took another deep breath and vowed this would be the last time today I spent time near a corpse. The room that had been mostly dark until now flashed bright as I flipped the overhead light switch. I looked anywhere I could besides the rotting pile staining the bed. Behind a step stool, a hutch and everywhere else I looked, until I saw finally saw it. Curled up in a ball on top of a grey cardboard shoebox next to the bed, a tan and white chihuahua no bigger than my shoe stared back at me with pleading eyes. It quaked and shuddered so terribly that I thought it was having a seizure. "C'mere, "I said, Reaching out with both hands.. "C'mon. I'm not going to hurt you." It shrank away but didn't growl or run. And just as easy as I could manage I scooped up it up.

As I lifted, it something caught my eye. The red circular symbol on the box it had been sitting on looked familiar. Like, really familiar.

Like, IOI industries familiar. With the dog tucked under my right arm I grabbed the edge of the box and flipped it open. The lid fell away. Still nestled in its initial packaging of foam and cellophane, a brand-new OASIS headset and goggles presented itself. Underneath that box was another just like it. Pushing the first one aside I opened it to find another unused headset still sealed in the factory packing cellophane. I stole a glance at Mrs. King. Convinced that neither she or her husband would be signing on anytime soon, I gathered it up both sets. The dog kept quivering in my hand, so we left the bedroom and I shut the door behind us.

Cans of dog food were stacked twenty high on the kitchen counter, so I put the dog down next to them, cracked open the closest can and set it in front of it. The first mouthfuls emptied a quarter of the can with little regard for what flavor it might be. I felt better watching it eat and noticed a golden tag hanging from its collar. I pinched it between my fingers to hold it steady and read the inscription.

" _ **Fancy**_ "

"Oh, hell no, I'm not letting you go another day with a name like Fancy." With a wave I made the sign of the cross over the dog. "From this moment forth I dub thee _Epona_ , my faithful steed." The dog didn't look up from the emptied can, so I opened another and set in in front of the poor thing. It just kept eating. I figured the dog would be fine on its own for a minute, so I did what any incredibly poor person in my situation would do. I wondered whether I should loot the place. Mr. And Mrs. King were dead, nothing I can do about that. But what about other family? I marched from room to room looking for pictures. None of the images on the walls or cabinets or hutches suggested they had any kids. What about nieces or nephews? I did the sweep again and came up with nothing. I already knew what would happen if I left. If I bailed with the dog and headsets and went on my merry way, someone would eventually come to investigate the smell that was undoubtedly going to get worse. The guy at the guard shack or someone else would show up, discover what had happened and call the coroner to come and scoop up what was left of Mrs. King. In the meantime, the person would likely start going through drawers and take things like jewelry and electronics before someone could establish some form of post death scene and take stock of what was in the unit. That doesn't count what the coroners or security guy managed to pocket. I don't judge them. They're not bad people, we just live in shit and dead people don't need material possessions. _Fuck it._ I remembered seeing an old green army duffel in the corner of the living room I emptied it of its old uniforms and paperwork from Mr. King's service period. Boom, Link's sack of infinite holding. The contents dumped nicely into the floor and my shoe pushed them under a nearby chair. From there I systematically went around the room looking for valuables; drawers, baskets, cups, bins, I searched them all but closed or put them back as I found them so it didn't _look_ like somebody had ransacked the place. The thick rubber gloves kept me from leaving fingerprints everywhere. In the end, my search turned up very little besides an old watch and a large bucket of change. There were no jewels to plunder, no ancient artifacts with magical abilities. I did step in dogshit twice though. Moving a blanket next to a chair revealed Mrs. King's purse. Credit cards would be too dangerous to use but the $79 in cash was very welcome. I left a few dollars in it, so it would look natural before I buried it with the blanket. I raided the most from the pantry I think. Cans of fruits and vegetables and soups found their way into my sack as well as some high-end protein bars that had some actual nutritional value to them. The bag got filled and heavier a lot faster than I wanted, however the idea of what to do with the credits from selling two pairs of brand new visors and gloves helped me to shoulder the load. Epona looked like she'd gorged herself on the two cans of "Puppy Pal" and sat next to the can, lazily chewing like more of a cow than a horse. The other dozen cans went into the bag. The dog appeared less nervous and then laid down in front of me on the counter.

"Heart containers maxed out, huh?" I said. "Sit tight. I'm going to make one last sweep and we're gone. It wasn't until now that I noticed the door right next to the front door of the unit. I opened it half expecting to find a closet but discovered a stairwell instead. With the flip of a switch the corridor lit up and I followed it down, down, down. Another waited at the bottom and I opened it. A garage and laundry room revealed themselves. A unit this big couldn't have been cheap. I guess Mr. King did well for himself as a driver. A vehicle shaped mass covered in a black tarp stared back and my curiosity got the better of me. With a yank the cover came free to reveal a thing of beauty I thought had gone long extinct; a pre-electric, gas-guzzling, luxury car in pristine condition. Long grey panels of highly waxed paint reflected the buzzing old fluorescent bulbs lighting the space. It was more than gorgeous, it was rolling art. I couldn't resist opening the drivers side door and plopping my ass down on the cushy seat. _Oh, that's nice._ The keys dangled from the ignition and I turned them, firing up the engine. I let it idle for a second if only for the opportunity to hear the sound of the large engine before killing it. The last thing I want to do right now is alert the neighbors, but I couldn't help myself. I got out and shut the door gently. Against the same wall as the roll up garage door a small note had been taped next to the door's keypad. It read: "Dale, here is the new number for the keypad so you don't forget. 2501"

Curious again, I opened the door, and typed in the numbers on the outer keypad. The internal mechanism clicked and opened from the outside. Huh, good to know. Somewhere overhead I heard footsteps near the unit and it reminded me I was in place I could get in deep shit for if discovered. Time for this dungeon crawl to end. I draped the car with the tarp again, disheartened that it would end up at an estate sale. I almost tripped on a gas can on the way out before flipping the light switch. Upstairs, I closed the stairwell door and found Epona's leash and harness that fit around her tiny body.

I wasn't two steps into the kitchen when there came a loud banging at the door. The voice of the guard from the shack filled the unit.

"Mrs. King? Are you there? Mrs. King? It's security. Can you come to the door?"

"uh oh. Come on, faithful steed, we gotta bounce."

I snatched her up and wrapped the harness around her like the furry burrito she was. The leash snapped into place. I considered exiting down the stairs but that would mean going near the front door.

"Mrs. King? It's security. I have a key to let myself in."

The window was still open. Lucky for me it was tall and wide enough for a desperate person to jump out of. I peered out to find the drop only about ten feet with a hill declining away from the building. _That'll work_. The bag went sailing through the window first. To my satisfaction it landed upright as to inflict the least amount of shock on the headsets.

"Mrs. King, It's security. I'm using my key to open the door!" Said the voice. I scooped up the dog, climbed onto the counter, and positioned myself in the windowpane.

"You ready for this?" I asked Epona. She replied by shivering even more than before. Out the window I leapt, my last gesture to use the hand not holding he chihuahua to shut the window. Through the air we sailed until I landed with both feet together. _Oof_. I cradled her and kept her from hitting the ground like Tom Cruise did with the crystal egg in the movie Risky Business. It didn't hurt, but id didn't feel great either. I rolled over once, Epona suspended in my grip. When I stood up, she looked no worse for wear but continued to shiver. The leash unrolled from around her body and set her on the ground. One foot stood on the end of the blue cord as I adjusted the straps and shouldered the weight of the duffel bag. She wobbled for a second before puking up half the contents of her meal.

"Ok, ok. No more pre-flight meals. Come on, we gotta get out of here. When we reached the corner closest to the front, the guard booth was unmanned. With no time to spare, I cradled Epona like a football and made an awkward dash across the parking lot and out the gate. All of this happened without being spotted. I continued hurrying, the oversized bag almost making me tip over. When we reached a safe enough distance from the complex I put Epona down and held her by the leash. She trotted along beside me, apparently happy to be outside and free of the abbatoir. Every twenty paces or so she'd stop and look back and me with those little black eyes. They made me smile for the first time in a long while.

"It's your lucky day, pup." I told her. I watched in between houses for signs of roving gang members. So far, there were no signs of anyone good. "But I hope you're ready for a lifestyle change. You just got adopted by a poor person." Her little legs trotted on, happy to carry her through the grass and down the shoulder of the highway back to the recycling facility. I wished it was the Oasis so we could fast travel, but even in the Oasis, you can't fast travel when enemies are nearby.


End file.
